The Tragedy of the Lone Wanderer
by Ritzaspizzas
Summary: Three years after the defeat of the Enclave the Lone Wanderer, Ryan, and his wife, Sarah Lyons live a happy life together. Sarah does her best to adjust to life as Elder. However, a plot is brewing. Disillusioned by the Lyons' Brotherhood ideology a rebel faction seeks to bring the Brotherhood back to the old ways. What follows will change the Capital Wasteland forever.
1. Prologue

SOMEWHERE NEAR ST. LOUIS

The sun fought its way through the clouds to shine down upon the bleak landscape. The wasteland was a greyish-brown drab of dust and the remains of once living things. Broken and dead trees lay everywhere, their rotting wood baking in the sunlight. They were surrounded by new hardier plants that had survived and adapted to the irradiated environment. Man had finally killed the Earth, giving birth to the wasteland, where natural selection was the only law.

Upon this wasteland was a man. A lone man who walked the Earth with some unknowing purpose. To an ordinary Raider he seemed an ordinary man, an easy target. He was walking down what people from the Old World would have called a highway. A group of raiders could have easily subdued him. Everyone from the toughest Brotherhood of Steel Paladin to a lowly scavenger knew it was unwise to travel the wastes alone. Many who did were quickly swallowed up never to be seen again. If it wasn't the harsh weather, it was the mutants, and if it wasn't the mutants, marauding raiders were certainly going to kill you.

There was nothing ordinary about this man however. The man wore a long tan duster that ran from his shoulders, extending down his arms, and then down to his heels. Underneath that was a desert camouflaged combat armor chest piece, providing his torso and shoulders with protection. Across his chest were multiple bandoliers holding shotgun shells for the Combat Shotgun sheathed in a custom made holster on his back. Across his waist were pockets and pouches made to hold magazines for the Marksman Carbine carried over his right shoulder and the 10mm pistol on the right side of his waist. He wore tan colored pants that were patched up in various areas from likely battle scars. There were further pouches and compartments for ammunition here as well. On his back a medic satchel and canteen were fitted around his belt. He wore black, tactical leather gloves with the finger tips cut off. Adorned on his head was a pre-war USMC low-light, night vision helmet that offered ballistic protection for his entire head. On the face mask of the helmet were large red eye camera's offering the low-light, night vision capability of the helmet.

Even more startling was what he wore on his arm. A portable computer known as a PIP-BOY was on his left arm around his wrist. The PIP-BOY was a black, bulky, portable computer. It was rectangular where the user interface screen was located. The interface was operated by dials on its face. From there the PIP-BOY rounded itself to fit and conform to the wearer's wrist. The interface glowed green when on allowing the raiders to make out the portable device. The raiders had only seen something like this on vault dwellers, so they knew it was rare and valuable, selling them on whether or not to attack the lone traveler.

Upon further inspection a raider with a keen eye could see the swagger in his walk. This was a confident man. A man who had traveled a long distance, wandering from place to place, leaving a pile of bodies in his wake. He was man whom the wasteland had swallowed but had immediately spat back out. He was a drifter, he was a fighter, a man with a chip on his shoulder.

The raiders had heard tales of a Lone Wanderer. A man who came from a place called the Capital Wasteland, whom had changed the fate of that land forever. He was leaving his mark all across the wasteland during his travels. They did not know why he wandered, but that wherever he did he was an unstoppable force of nature. It was said that the creatures of the wasteland cowered in fear at the sound of his footsteps and that even Deathclaws shuddered at the sight of him. They also heard stories about the mighty raider gangs who simply allowed him to pass through their territory without tribute. There was even one story where the raiders paid him to pass through, for fear of evoking the Wanderer's wrath.

But these raiders chalked those stories up as myths, fairytales, no man like that could possibly exist. They left the ridge upon which they were scouting the road from to return to their camp and tell their friends of the fresh meat headed their way. The raiders jumped and howled at the news of a lonely traveler; it had been weeks since they were last able to kill and loot any travelers on the highway, most small groups avoided it, and caravans required a very organized plan to take down. The raiders headed to the old military checkpoint which was their staging ground for attacks. The wrecked APC's and cars provided excellent cover and concealment for them as they waited for prey to come knocking on their doorstep.

Although most were experienced, the raiders were impatient. The traveler had only been a few minutes' walk from their location once they had arrived. Waiting for prey was difficult, they were more adept at attacking small settlements or single homes where they could dictate the pace of their fights. They weren't methodical, precise, nor were they adept at stealth. Hiding was cowardly to them, but they were ready to kill. It had been so long since their last intoxicating rush from the sight and sound of hot metal ripping and burning through flesh, carrying hopes, dreams, and memories away in the wind, that they were slowly going insane.

After a wait that felt like hours, the insanity came to a boiling point. They were hungry for action, for blood. Some began to argue and yell at one another and fight. The chems that filled their system had them in a bloodlust ready and willing to kill anything and anyone. The veterans attempted to calm the situation and retain control but the younger members of the gang were already firmly entrenched in performing some act of violence before their high trickled out of their systems. As the gang continued to argue and fight, a man materialized in front of them. The raiders were in shock. They had assumed that they had missed their target and that he had snuck past them. Yet here he was in front of them asking for a fight. The gang hesitated and stared at him in bewilderment. To them he barely looked human but rather like a specter cloaked in the shadow of the dying wastes. His body appeared to be nothing more than an oily silhouette, with nightmarish glowing red eyes.

The raiders were horrified of this creature standing before them. Even the wasteland grew silent upon his arrival afraid of any reprisal from the shadowy figure. Some were frozen with fear, while others scrambled for their weapons. It was too late. The sound of the Marksman Carbine ripped through the air destroying the brief silence of the wasteland. Flesh and bone were ripped apart at every report from the rifle's fiery mouth. They watched in horror as blood splattered the ruins of the military checkpoint. The raiders were caught out in the open and they quickly fell to the earth, their dead weight sending them crashing down, coming to awkward resting positions. They were helpless at the sight before them; none of their earthly skills could save them from the divine wind that had happened upon them. They had realized all too late that the rumors were true; the Lone Wanderer was upon them.

The Lone Wanderer continued emptying his magazine with machine-like precision. The raiders began to flee for their lives, as far as they were concerned he was not human, far from it. They had never seen any man shoot so accurately and so quickly. The Wanderer aimed at the routed raiders, wounding them, and never missing. If he felt pity he certainly didn't show it.

With grace and fluidity the Wanderer pulled the magazine from the rifle with ammo to spare. He had fired 18 shots and had killed 11 raiders and wounded 3 more. His movement was natural in combat. He had sustained heavy accurate fire on the raiders, always walking forward, each step with purpose and confidence. With the fresh magazine loaded he slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew his sidearm, walking past his handiwork and towards the new friends he was going to make. The raiders frantically tried to get up and run but with their kneecaps blown out they found it difficult to even crawl. Their screaming and cursing was enough to turn anyone's blood cold. But the legends say the Wanderer doesn't bleed. In fact the Wanderer was hardly a man at all, but rather a demon cast upon the Earth to bring vengeance to the righteous and death to the wicked and depraved. Raiders had nightmares about him and these raiders were in the midst of one.

The closest raider appeared to be nothing more than a young girl. He started with her. She appeared to be not much older than 18, just a bit "weathered". Her entire body appeared bruised from what the wanderer could see and she was adorned in typical raider spike armor. Her head was shaved so that her hair had a combination of a mohawk and a ponytail. The specter emerged from the shadow of the overpass. As he stepped into the sunlight, the oily form of his body melted away as the specter emerged from the shadow the overpass. A deceptively human form took its place. The Wanderer knelt down at her side, lifting her hair up with his N99 10mm pistol and playing with it. "Hey sweetheart," he cooed from inside his helmet. The microphone in his helmet projected a metallic tone through the speaker on the front of the helmet. "Shame about those pretty little knees." "Fuck you motherfucker!" She rolled her body around and spat on his helmet.

The Wanderer shifted to a harsher tone. "A shame you had to go and do that. I guess this med-x has someone else's name on it." His voice was cold and dark, emotionless. He rose to his feet as he pulled the pistol's heavy trigger. The girl's head violently jerked back smashing into the pavement she had been crawling on. A red puddle began to form around her skull.

At the sight of this merciless execution the raiders tried frantically to continue to crawl away. "Get the fuck away from me you fucking freak!" "PLEASE! Please please please please get away from me!" He knelt down again when he reached the next raider. He was older, obviously a veteran of many years pillaging the wastes and killing the innocent. An exemplar of humanity if there ever was one, the Wanderer thought to himself. He pulled the med-x out of his pack and held it out in front of the raider. The raider was making pathetic whimpers and grunts to crawl away from the Wanderer until he saw the med-x. "Anything to stop this pain," he thought. "All you have to do is take me to your camp and it's yours." The Wanderer's voice seemed compassionate and yet cold at the same time, the voice box stinging the air every time he spoke. "Yeah! Yeah! Sure, give me tha fuckin thing!" The raider was anxious to ease his own suffering and cling to the brief life he had left. He plunged the needle of the syringe into his arm and let the chem flow into his blood.

Without saying anything the Wanderer proceeded to get up and walk toward the third raider who at this point was writhing on the ground, screaming in pain. "PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! AHHHH! Give me the med-x! Please! Give it to me NOW!" The raider was pleading for his life. "I hate it when they beg," the Wanderer thought to himself. He stood over the pleading raider, begging for mercy. "I'm sure your victims felt the same way you do right now, and yet did they get to walk away? Did you let them live?" He felt no sorrow or guilt. "No! Nononononononononono. Please let me go…" The raider trailed off and became unintelligible between his begging and crying.

It was quick. Much quicker than those he had killed. The blood painted the ground as the young, groveling, raider's violent existence ceased. The Wanderer returned to the overpass and proceeded to loot the corpses for bottlecaps and ammunition. When he returned to the raider he left up the road, he picked him up and carried him after bandaging his wounds, while he directed the Wanderer to the partially destroyed Red Rocket gas station the raiders had used for a hideout.

Inside he found a plethora of weapons, chems, ammo, and bottlecaps. He placed his bags and weapons down on a table after clearing it of the used chems that previously littered its surface. He grabbed a Nuka Cola off the shelf, popped off the cap and could smell the intoxicating aroma of the carbonated sugary drink even through his helmet. He removed his helmet revealing his rugged face. His hygiene was quite immaculate. Despite the scars and marks littering his face, he was clean shaven with short black hair and piercing brown eyes. He smiled and took a long hard swig. The gas station was a rusted broken down mess. Raiders were never good at housekeeping. Broken lights hung from the ceiling and the walls were littered with bullet holes. It did however provide good protection from the elements and anyone who wanted to pick a fight with them, a good location for a hideout.

As he sat enjoying his Nuka Cola and hearing the sweet sound of his Geiger counter on the PIP-BOY every time he took a swig, he heard the voice of a girl. "Hello? Who's there?" The girl's weak voice sounded like it was coming from an office behind the gas station's checkout counter. The Lone Wanderer shot a look at the raider who now had a strained look on his face laying on his bed in the garage of the gas station.

The Lone Wanderer grabbed his pistol off of the table exchanging it with his Nuka Cola. He stood and made careful quiet footsteps moving into the convenient store. He moved fluidly, hopping over the counter like he floated on air. His landing back on the floor was just as graceful. He approached the door, pistol in hand. The metal door would provide ample protection from gunfire and decided to turn the handle and quickly enter the room. He tried the handle. Locked. This appeared a minor annoyance. The Wanderer stepped back and kicked it down with little effort. His fast entrance shocked the room's only occupant, who let out as loud of a screech as she could muster. The Wanderer turned to face the sound.

In the corner of the candle lit room lay a young teenage girl with blonde hair. She was poorly wrapped in rags kneeling in the corner of the room, surrounded by what appeared to be sex toys, and discarded, used chems. The girl was bruised, burned and scared across her body. The girl looked up at the Wanderer and her blue eyes met his. He could tell she was frightened beyond her imagination and hurt beyond what she thought possible. She was visibly shaking in front of him.

He took a step toward her as she cowered in fear. Tears ran down her cheeks as she quivered in her corner. "Shhh. It's okay I'm not going to hurt you." The girl heard a smoothness in his ragged voice she didn't expect to come out of his mouth. As sincere as he could be he continued, "It's alright. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you." He removed his duster and began to wrap it around the girl. Reluctantly she stood up with him and they slowly walked out of the office. They moved together into the garage where he had been previously sitting. Just as he placed her in a chair her eyes shot across the room to the raider laying on his cot. The Wanderer held her shoulders in his hands as he crouched in front of her, lowering himself until he and the girl were face to face. He saw her scared eyes locked onto the raider on the other side of the garage. Something was wrong. The Wanderer looked over at him and back at her. He could see the fear and horror in his eyes. When her eyes turned back to the Wanderer, he melted. He hadn't seen eyes like that in a long time. He thought of _her_ and the way _she_ used to look at him. The thought of _her_ filled him with rage.

Without hesitation he stood up and walked over to the table where his 10mm pistol lay. He grabbed the gun and walked over to the raider whose face was cast in confusion and fear. He grabbed the raider by the spiked collar he wore around his neck and dragged him out of the garage. The raider began to kick and curse and scream as he was dragged across the pavement. He could feel its rough cracked surface carving into his back and the blood trail he was leaving. The Wanderer continued up the road to the overpass where the attempted ambush had taken place. Once there he dragged the raider to where the overpass had collapsed onto the highway below it. He placed the raider on the edge of the overpass looking down upon his former comrades.

The raider knew what was happening and before he could even utter a word, he entered dark oblivion, courtesy of one 10mm bullet through his forehead.

The gunshot sounded far away but it shook the girl, she nearly fell out of her chair. The sound also brought relief with her. The last of her tormentors was dead. But she didn't know what to make of the stranger. While he had been kind to her, she didn't think she could ever trust anyone again. She had seen how people's ulterior motives had led her to this situation, in this hellhole, far from home, if she could even call _it_ that anymore.

The stranger's duster was warm and she wrapped it around herself tight as she sat in the chair. She wanted to get up and run, but knew how futile it was. Despite her distrust of the stranger she was weak, fragile, and incapable of surviving alone in the wastes. She needed him, and had to place her faith in him, no matter how badly she didn't want to.

The Wanderer returned and found the girl where he had left her. He tossed his pistol back on the table and standing next to it began to down the remainder of his Nuka Cola. He wiped the sweet liquid from his mouth and looked down at the girl whom had not taken her eyes off of him since he walked in. "Well you don't have to worry about him anymore." The girl just stared at him and didn't say a word.

He made contact with her eyes. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. Oh God that stare. He was entranced. She looked so much like _her_ , the goddess of his life. Her frailty in this moment and her stunning blue eyes and long flowing blonde hair were too much for the Lone Wanderer. She looked like a fighter too, what a fighter _she_ was, he thought to himself. He thought hard about the last time his saw her in front of the Capitol Building, the fear and pain in her eyes. The same fear and pain he saw now.

He began to break, his knees buckled. The walls that he had built around himself for the last two years were being torn down by the stare of a young girl with blonde hair and diamond eyes. _Her_ eyes. As he fell to the floor, the girl's emotions had changed. She reached out from her chair to touch him, confused and startled by the man's sudden breakdown. "What's wrong?" She tried to laugh "I'm the one who got rescued from raiders, remember?"

Underneath all the sobbing all she could make out was, "I'm so sorry Sarah. I'm so sorry."


	2. Exile

CAPITAL WASTELAND: THE CITADEL 2280

The Lone Wanderer awoke to the sound of his alarm on his PIP-BOY. Annoyed at how it ruined his wonderful sleep he proceeded to beat the wrist-mounted computer until it stopped. "Ugh! Can't you ever take that damned thing off," the other side of the bed groaned. The Wanderer rolled over and locked eyes with the most beautiful creature he had ever met in his life. "Good morning, beautiful," he smiled. "Good morning, Ryan," she quipped back a smile donning her face.

Her long blonde hair stretched down her back as sat up and reached over to her desk and began tying her hair into a pony tail. She wore green military skivvies: a tank top and shorts. He admired her body. "God you are a sight to see every morning." It was always fun watching her get into her power armor. He teased her as she cursed and swore, every time she attempted to fit into it. He loved every second of it.

"Well enjoy the view, before I put on that hideous robe." The role of Elder did not suit her by any means. She was a fighter. She was Sentinel Sarah Lyons of the Brotherhood of Steel. Leader of the Lyon's Pride. Ever since her father had died, however, she had been named Elder, and now had to take up the administrative duties that came with the position. She hated every second of it.

Ryan or the "Lone Wanderer" as he was more famously known began to get up out of bed as well. He got down on the floor and began his usual morning ritual of pushups and sit-ups. It had been three years since he had destroyed the Enclave and got Project Purity up and running bringing purified water to everyone in the Capital Wasteland. Now he was a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel, a formal ambassador between the people of the wastes and the Brotherhood, and more importantly husband to Sarah Lyons.

He often thought about that night over in Chevy Chase when he first met Sarah. "What a bitch!" he thought. She thought little of the fighting ability of wastelanders at the time, being a professional soldier. And he did not take kindly to her ungrateful attitude. Things got better the more they worked together however. Now she was married to a wastelander; he ended up having the last laugh. But no matter what he thought then, he was as happy now, as he ever could be.

The couple began going through their daily tasks. Sarah was meeting with her leading Paladins, and Scribes about daily situations and upcoming operations within the Capital Wasteland. Ryan meanwhile was in the armory testing the new issue weapons and modification to his power armor. He loved guns. Shooting them. Repairing them. Modifying them. It was second to his love for Sarah. Ryan went to work ready to get through another easy day at the Citadel.

Sentinel Tristan sat at a table surrounded by his most trusted Paladins and Knights. A faction had begun to form within the Brotherhood. With the Enclave defeated the Brotherhood had eliminated the greatest threat to its mission in the Capital Wasteland. Now after more than 20 years of Lyons' rule they were tired of their new mission and wanted to reestablish contact with the Western Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. They also sought to unify with the Outcasts who had separated themselves from the Brotherhood in the Citadel. The Outcasts saw Lyons and company as traitors to their cause. They were not to help wastelanders but scavenge tech and keep it out of unworthy hands. Many members within the Brotherhood now saw this as a return to norm. But Sarah Lyons, her elite unit, the Lyons' Pride, and her faithful spouse, stood in direct conflict with their plan.

Sentinel Tristan was the second highest ranking member in the East Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. He saw it as his duty to eliminate the traitors and reestablish the Brotherhood's true him was his right hand man, Lancer-Captain Kells. "The Lyons family are traitors to the Brotherhood. They have abandoned our ideals to help the pathetic wastelanders. It has gone on long enough. The Brotherhood needs to reassert its focus on keeping technology in the right hands and securing it. The wastelanders are not our fellow men." Sentinel Tristan's brief statement was met with a raucous pounding of metal fists on the table they sat at.

"Lancer-Captain Kells if you will." "With pleasure." The Captain smiled as he stood up from his seat and began laying out a plan to draw Elder Lyons and the Lone Wanderer away from the Citadel.

As Ryan was in the armory repairing his newly acquired suit of T-60 power armor he was disturbed by the sight of a field scribe running through the armory headed to the direction of the Elder's office. He stood up and watch as the scribe furiously ran through the armory, bumping into weapons and running into soldiers. He quickly followed the scribe as his instincts told him something was terribly, terribly, wrong.

Upon reaching Sarah's office she was visibly angry, her face red, and her fists pounding her desk.

She pushed the button on her intercom, "Sentinel Tristan!"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Assemble a squad at once, I'm going out and rescuing the Lyon's Pride!"

"Ma'am if I do say, it is most un…"

"DO NOT QUESTION MY ORDER TRISTAN! ASSEMBLE A SQUAD RIGHT NOW DAMMNIT!"

"As you wish Elder!"

Ryan was disturbed to see Sarah like this, as disturbed as he was to hear of the horrible situation the Lyon's Pride found itself in. "I'm coming with you," he said as she rushed passed him violently removing her robe and walking toward her power armor in the corner of the room.

"Meet me in the courtyard in 10 minutes. If you're not there by then I'll leave your ass!"

"Aye, aye ma'am!" He saluted, did an about face and exited the room.

In the courtyard Ryan found Sarah flocked by Sentinel Tristan's best men ready to head into hell to save the Lyon's den. He formed up with the squad while he listened to the woman he loved give a mission briefing on the situation at hand.

"Gather round brothers. The Lyon's Pride have become pinned down and overrun by a horde Super Mutants while doing a threat evaluation patrol in downtown D.C. Our job is to fight our way through any Frankenstein's in the mall and pull our brothers out of the fire, it's that simple!"

Everyone saw the pain in Sarah's eyes as she gave the speech, no one more so than Ryan.

"Steel be with you!" the Elder shouted.

The soldiers around her in turn put their fists to their chests and shouted, "Steel be with you!"

Ryan took point as the squad moved through the ruins of Downton D.C. Sarah was growing impatient behind him while the squad formed a typical wedge formation behind her while the navigated the cluttered streets. "Almost there," it was Ryan's best attempt to reassure Sarah everything would be okay. He hated seeing her like this. He felt helpless. After all he had done and the horrible situations he had found himself in his first year after exiting the vault, never did he feel more scared. Not for himself but for Sarah. She seemed absolutely torn apart when he went into her office.

They crawled out through a building and onto the Mall. They were on the opposite right next to the Lincoln Memorial. The clouds were a typical greyish-green with the sun nowhere to be seen. The D.C. Ruins were an ugly place. The Mall defined D.C.'s repulsive features. The Mall itself was a disastrous warzone. What was once a pleasant tourist attraction pre-war now was an irradiated wasteland. The Mall was littered with trenches and fortification sprawling at the foot of the Washington Monument. Gun emplacements and craters were sprinkled around the formerly majestic Washington Monument. While it still inspired awe from visitors it could never match its former glory. Lining both sides of the Mall were depressing, drab, grey, buildings. The buildings looked like rows of folded, discarded, gloves tossed about by the bombs.

Examining the scene before him Ryan knew something was wrong. The scouting reports had told of hundreds of mutants flooding the lawn. And yet the lawn was empty. No Super mutants could be seen. More importantly the Brotherhood outpost at the Washington Monument was still intact. Why hadn't it been overrun as well? More importantly why hadn't they helped their brothers? Ryan was deeply disturbed and puzzled by what he saw before him. Even more startling he thought to himself was the lack of any signs of a battle. They were told only minutes before leaving that the Pride was surrounded in the Capitol Building, and it wasn't exactly easy to kill a bunch of Brotherhood Knights in full power armor, no matter how many mutants there were.

As Sarah continued to lead the patrol down the Mall, Ryan walked up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to see what his old friend Hannibal Hamlin had heard Hannibal walked down the steps and greeted the Lone Wanderer.

"Hey Hannibal, we just received word of a squad of Brotherhood soldiers being hit hard by mutants at the Capitol have you heard or seen anything.

"I haven't seen any mutants. But there was quite a scrap going on at the steps of the Capitol earlier this morning, didn't last very long though."

A pit began to form in Ryan's stomach. He felt uneasy at what Hannibal had just told him. What the hell was going on?

He said goodbye to Hannibal and caught up with the squad just as they passed the Washington Memorial. He was surprised Sarah didn't stop to question the soldiers but her mind lay upon the Capitol and what had allegedly occurred there. The closer they came to the steps of the Capitol Building the more they could make out bulky figures of power armor lying on the steps. Ryan felt sick as he watched Sarah, the strongest woman he had ever met break into a dead sprint as she saw her dying comrades lying on the steps of the Capitol Building. Their armor looked like it had locked up indicating it had locked up. He quickly followed after her.

"Sarah, listen to me Sarah," he was trying to run and talk at the same time. It was difficult to keep up with her.

"Let's take it nice and easy. Call in some vertibirds and get them checked out, while we set up rear security." She completely ignored him and kept running for the steps. She reached the first Knight, it was Gallows. He armor was covered in plasma and laser rifle scores. This struck Ryan as odd as the Super mutants usually did not have that type of weaponry. In fact the entire unit was riddled with plasma and laser scores. They had likely breached their armor, killing them while their armor seized up and shut down. Sarah pulled off Gallows helmet and saw his lifeless face. Sarah violently ripped the tags from Gallows neck and picked herself up continuing to the nearest suit of armor. It was Glade. She pulled his helmet off as well. His eyes had the look of shock frozen in stone gazing at the sky. He had also breathed his last breath.

Ryan began to feel sick as he watched Sarah go from suit of armor to suit of armor. These were his friends, his comrades, his brothers in arms, lying dead without him around to have helped them. At the same time he was sick at the thought of what this was doing to Sarah. She was his life. He poured and focused everything into her. She filled a void long empty with the passing of his father and his exile from Vault 101. The love of his life was in tremendous pain and for once, the Lone Wanderer, the savior of the Capital Wasteland, didn't know what to do. And yet still he could not explain the plasma and laser scores. He moved to the nearest Knight and saw Colvin. He pulled his helmet off to grab his holotags. Sarah at this point was pacing at the bottom of the steps unsure of what to do. She lifted her helmet off and threw it to the ground. Just as Ryan was about to pull the tags out, Colvin's head moved. Ryan was startled.

"It's a trap. It's a trap." Colvin weakly spat out.

"What are you talking about?!" Ryan answered back.

"They want to kill the Elder. It's a trap."

In that moment Ryan felt the world spin and crash around him. He turned his head and saw that the squad of soldiers selected by Tristan had formed a firing line and were leveling their plasma and laser weapons at Sarah.

"NO! SARAH IT'S A TRAP!" He was too late.

Sarah turned and stared at her executioners. Ryan saw the pain and anguish in her eyes. Her best friends had just been killed and the organization that had consumed her life was now betraying her. Her face was shattered. Ryan was swallowed in hopelessness. Sarah's gaze upon the firing squad was greeted by a hail of flying laser and plasma shots. She dropped immediately to the ground. Ryan in a blood rage screamed at the top of his lungs. He quickly activated his newest attachment, a jetpack and flew into the sky firing at the soldiers with his plasma rifle.

Plasma poured out of Ryan's rifle. He shot wildly at the squad below him. The squad spread out in attempts to reorganize and deal with the new airborne threat. Several runners attempting to find cover were caught out in the open by Ryan. He fired at their backs targeting the highest ranking soldier. A Paladin who had directed the soldiers to spread out had shown his back to Ryan. He fired striking the fusion core powering his suit. The core exploded sending bits bone, flesh, and metal in all directions. Ryan took aim again, while maneuvering himself to avoid the hail of plasma and laser fire being thrown at him. He spotted another soldier taking cover in a trench. He fired a volley at his head, scoring a critical hit, destroying the Knight's helmet and killing him in the process.

Ryan attempted to shift his thruster to move away from the squad when he saw a gatling laser spinning up from a Paladin below him. The Paladin engaged striking Ryan's loosely attached jetpack. The jetpack exploded and detached from Ryan's armor, sending him plummeting to the earth. He moved quickly to brace for the impact. The ground closed on him fast. The impact left a cloud of dust. The Brotherhood hit squad assumed that the job was done and moved in to confirm their kill.

Suddenly the cloud parted and a thundering Brotherhood of Steel Paladin emerged wielding a supersledge. The closest Knight stood no chance as Ryan plowed into him with the full momentum of his charge. The Knight's torso armor caved in breaching his power armor frame and his own chest killing him. His body was sent flying in the air until he skidded across the ground behind the squad.

The Knights were startled. Their Paladin had been killed early in the firefight and now they had no leadership. Ryan ran again to the next Knight as laser and plasma fire flew past him. The Knights were amazed at his agility in the power armor. He moved as fluidly in it as he did without it. Several shots hit his armor but Ryan was undeterred. He wound his arms back and unleashed the supersledge on the Knight in front of him. The helmet caved in and the Knight slumped to the ground, his helmet now covered in his own blood.

The soldiers quickly tried to regroup. They moved closer to each other while maintain steady suppressing fire on the madman in front of them. Ryan filled with rage ran at them. He was hit by volley after volley of fire as the terrified squad desperately tried to stop him from reaching melee range. Unexpectedly he threw his super sledge at the Knight firing the gatling laser detaching him from the weapon. His body hit the ground. He was heavily wounded. The remaining Knights attempted to fall back. They were unaware of the plasma grenade that had also been thrown turning all but one into a pile of goo as it exploded into a ball of hot liquefying plasma.

Ryan who had taken cover in one of the many nearby trenches. Poked his now helmetless head over the trench. He saw a lone Knight on the opposite side of the Mall retreating back to the Citadel. His helmet had broken and was now lying burned and smashed in the trench next to him. His bloodlust had ended and as the rage drained from his body he looked over at Sarah lying on the ground at the foot of the Capitol. He walked over to her He knelt down and held her lifeless body in his arms. Ryan had difficulty filtering his emotions. The once great Lone Wanderer was on his knees, in tatters at the sight of his dead lover. Anger, melancholy, rage, fear, pain. His mind was racing trying to process the sensory overload he was experiencing. This was the third time his world had crashed down on him. First his father had left the vault, catapulting him into the wastes changing his life forever. Then it was his father's selfless sacrifice at Project Purity, a wound that still hasn't fully healed. And now _this._

On his knees the Lone Wanderer thought back to the night after the defeat of the Enclave at Adams Air Force Base. _Their_ night. They were seated on the rocks at the scenic overlook in front of Vault 101. God… He still remembered the way the rays of the waning sun glistened off of her golden hair, and how her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. They had tried to keep it professional as long as they could. But no longer. A drunken Ryan professed his love and care for the great warrior. She could barely let him finish his confession before she pressed her lips to his.

He looked down at those majestic, blue eyes. "Oh God Sarah." She was gone and he knew it, but found it difficult to accept. He lifted her head gently, whilst simultaneously lifting up her legs. He then stood up, his love in his arms and began to walk. He didn't know where to go but he had to go somewhere. He continued walking down the war torn Mall. Ahead Ryan saw crowds gathering on the steps of the Temple of Union and at the entrance to Underworld.

His faced was soaked with tears as he tried to make out the Underworld crowd through his watery eyes. Ryan blinked desperately to make out someone he knew, someone who could help him. A large yellow figure made his way through the crowd followed by a smaller figure in black armor.

"Fawkes? Charon?" There was despair in Ryan's voice. He was utterly defeated. A shell of all his former accomplishments.

Fawkes examined his friend up and down. The broken man in front of him hurt Fawkes deeply. To see his friend like this was heart wrenching.

"My friend, I am sorry I was not there for you in your hour of need. Sarah… She was a wonderful woman." Fawkes raspy voice conveyed deep compassion and sympathy for his friend. Charon who was next to Fawkes found it difficult to convey his emotions. He was staring at the man who had given him freedom, one of his true friends, now a broken man. He pressed himself to offer condolences, it was the very least he could do.

"Whatever you need right now boss, we'll do it. Just say the word." Charon choked on the words. He could not remember the last time he felt sadness.

"I need to get to Megaton. Could you escort me…and Sarah there?" His mouth quivered and stumbled over the word Sarah.

Without hesitation, Fawkes and Charon moved back into Underworld and geared up. They moved quickly and silently. They both focused on what was at hand. Here they were, two mutants who faced horrible discrimination and prejudice, finally able to repay the man who had treated them as equals and given them freedom. Now it was their friend's hour of need and they were answering the call.

The companions returned in minutes and the group departed Underworld and the Mall. It was a quiet, somber trip. No one spoke a word until they passed through Greyditch and a familiar voice came through a nearby radio.

Three Dog in his most somber voice cut short the song that had just been playing.

 _I'm sorry to interrupt this song for a very important news bulletin._

His voice was outright depressing, lacking the normal rhythm he naturally spoke with.

 _Listen here boys and girls, I've just received word from our friends over at the Citadel. They tell me that our friend, good ole Vault 101, the Lone Wanderer has gone rogue and in a fit of rage killed Elder Lyons and several Brotherhood of Steel Knights. Sentinel Tristan is now acting Elder and has issued a manhunt across the entire Capital Wasteland to bring the Lone Wanderer to justice. So boys and girls if you still want to listen to some music after that shit show here ya go:_

Three Dog's voice trailed off as Ryan sank into the world around him. His life had been shattered in an instant. Tristan had made a successful coup and he was now public enemy number one. He had stopped dead in his tracks. What was once a calm, mourning, man became a thunderstorm of anger. Ryan gently placed Sarah on the ground, walking over to the radio and throwing it into a wall. He began to then punch the wall repeatedly shaking the earth with the force of his punches and creating a man sized whole in the wall. Thoughts raced through his mind as he thought of what to do. He looked down at the plasma pistol on his hip. It could all be over…

Fawkes interrupted his thoughts placing his large hand on his shoulder. "We should continue onward my friend. It is now only a short walk." Fawkes' worry for his friend was evident in his voice. His tone even had the slightest hint of fear in it. Fear for his friend. No one ever thought they would see the Lone Wanderer so broken. Nobody knew the consequences of what had just occurred. Just as the Wanderer had changed the Capital Wasteland forever, it seemed the winds of change were back in D.C and they were ready to take their savior away from them. Ryan had only one choice. There was only settlement that he could still trust. Ryan walked across the Potomac straight to Megaton still carrying Sarah.

They approached the rust colored walls of Megaton. The massive sheets of metal towered over the group. It gave Ryan a small sense of security. _Home_ he thought. Upon reaching the gate, Deputy Weld gave the group the normal greeting. Ryan looked up at Stockholm on the catwalk. Stockholm who never said a word to the Wanderer once looked down upon him. Ryan saw the sympathy in his face and he thanked him for it. He turned to Fawkes and Charon. "Stay here and guard the gate. If you see any vertibirds or signs of the Brotherhood come get me. I doubt after what happened at the Mall they'll wish for a fight but I don't know what they're capable of anymore." Fawkes and Charon both nodded acknowledging to obey their faithful comrade.

Walking into Megaton Ryan was greeted by Lucas Simms, Billy Creel, and Moira. He walked right past them and up to his house placing Sarah on the deck overlooking the rest of Megaton. He lifted the door off its hinges and chucked it across his deck. The door smashed into Megaton's wall behind him with a loud metallic crash. Lucas Simms, Billy Creel, and Moira all followed and were now looking into Ryan's house where the door had once been. Before they knew it Wadsworth was also sent flying out the door.

"Ugh! What in the bloody hell is Master Ryan's problem?!"

"Fuck off Wadsworth." Simms coldly answered. Wadsworth annoyed with the lack of civility on display flew off of the property and into the heart of Megaton.

Inside Ryan was fervently packing his things together. He was no longer inside his power armor, and was quickly putting his pre-war USMC combat armor on. He grabbed his Marksman Carbine, Combat Shotgun, and 10mm pistol from his weapons locker and grabbed his night vision helmet off a shelf and walked out the door. He placed rucksack on a table outside his house. The deck overlooked the core of Megaton where the now disarmed bomb lay, surrounded by man-made shacks and catwalks. He quickly began packing his rucksack with his valuables, caps, and as much ammunition as he could find.

He looked over at the trio quietly staring at him watching his every movement. "You can arrest me anytime you want, or shoot me. Shooting me would probably be better."

"We know you didn't do it. You could have never done that to Sarah"

"Thanks Moira. It doesn't mean shit though. My time in this place is over."

"You can't just run away from this." Billy Creel piped up.

"I have never run away from anything Billy!" Ryan yelled back. "But I cannot fight the Brotherhood!" His face was red and veins were bulging from his neck.

"You don't have to fight them alone," Simms answered "We'll be right there by your side."

"No Sheriff. No one else that I care about is dying today. I just have one favor to ask"

"What is it?" Ryan could hear the worry and compassion in Moira's voice.

"Bury Sarah for me? At the scenic overlook at the entrance to Vault 101. She always liked it there and I don't think Tristan and his thugs will find her there."

They answered without hesitation. "Of course."

"Billy how's Dogmeat doing?"

"Great. You know how much Maggie loves him."

Tears began to well up in Ryan's eyes. "Could…Could you take care of him for me?"

"Anything for you Ryan." Billy began to well up as he answered. He could feel the water and heat in his eye.

"Can I-I-I see him one last time?"

"Sure." Billy quickly left to grab Dogmeat and bring him back.

As Ryan began to place the last of his things in the rucksack he looked out at Megaton, the city he loved, the city he _and_ Sarah loved. He walked over to her on the deck and took her out of her power armor. He lifted her body out of the suit and onto the table that his rucksack and weapons had just occupied. He looked her dead in the eyes one last time before he closed them with his hand. "Goodbye Sarah. I'll always love you." His turned into waterfalls as the tears landed on Sarah's face. He sealed his goodbye with one last kiss.

Billy returned with Dogmeat, who was more than ecstatic to see his master. However, as Ryan knelt down to greet Dogmeat the loyal canine companion knew something was wrong. "Hey, boy how's it going?" Dogmeat replied with a bark. Ryan laughed. "I missed you too." It was in that moment that Dogmeat began to whimper, noticing Sarah's lifeless body. He stood himself up on the table and began to lick her face whimpering all the while.

Ryan couldn't help but let loose in this moment despite all his anger and frustration. Tears in his eyes, "I know buddy I miss her too." He was crying now. "Li-listen D-dogmeat, thi-this-s-s-s, isn't easy for me either. But…..you know how much I love you." The dog's tail which had not stopped wagging since his arrival suddenly stopped. "I need you stay with Billy Creel and Maggie for a long while now, j-just like you been doing. Okay?" Dogmeat began to let out a pitiful wimper. Ryan brought him closer, "It isn't any easier for me boy. Okay. Goodbye Dogmeat. Be a good boy. I love you." Dogmeat licked Ryan across the face.

Ryan stood up and faced Billy Creel. He stuck his hand out, Billy took the hand and with his other arm hugged the Lone Wanderer. "It's been a pleasure Billy. You're good man."

"It's been an honor." With that Billy gathered Dogmeat and returned home.

Ryan shifted over to Moira. Moira now a teary-eyed mess wrapped her arms around the Lone Wanderer one last time. Crying and laughing at the same time she said, "I'll never find a research assistant as good as you." Ryan chuckled at the thought of those crazy experiments. Moira was always good at drawing a smile from him in the worst moments.

"I know you won't. And thank you Moira." Moira couldn't control herself and quickly ran down the steps and up to Craterside Supply.

The tall, rugged, Lucas Simms accepted the Lone Wanderer's handshake.

"Make sure Three Dog knows the truth. Thank you for everything Sheriff. For the house. All the support you've given me. You're the closest thing I've got to a dad ever since he died."

"No thank you. You've done more for this town in a few years than I could ever do in a lifetime. Take care of yourself out there."

"I will try." Ryan turned around and threw his rucksack over his shoulders. He slid the combat shotgun in the holster on his back and slung the Marksman Carbine over his right shoulder and across his chest. Finally he holstered his 10mm pistol. With everything secure. He grabbed his helmet and took one long look at his peaceful bride. He took her hand and kissed it. "Till we meet again."

Outside Megaton he approached the two mutants. They all knew what was coming.

"This is it. I have to leave." Fawkes and Charon could hear the agony in his voice. It was clear that he had been crying.

"It would be an honor for us to accompany you, like old times my friend." Fawkes was always so sincere and polite. He could easily be mistaken for a gentle giant instead of the battle-hardened Super Mutant that he was. Charon nodded in agreement. He never said much but the relationship between the three was always well understood. There was an intense bond between them.

"No my destiny lies out there and yours here." There was a long silent pause as Ryan worked to bring the words to his mouth.

"Sarah is going to be buried at the Vault 101 scenic overlook. Make sure that she is, and that no one interferes with the burial." Ryan looked past them as he spoke. He was looking at the future that awaited for him. Part of him felt he was running from a fight, the other saw it is as the only way for survival. If he died so would the memory of the great Sarah Lyons and her father. He was thinking of her family name and the accomplishments of her and her father. He would protect her reputation. But he knew he would be hunted and his best chance for revenge and survival lay outside the Capital Wasteland, for now anyway. One day he would return.

The brothers-in-arms made their goodbyes. They tried to be as quick and painless as possible but they all struggled with the situation. Ryan shook their hands. "I couldn't have asked for two better friends. Take care."

"You are the exemplar of humanity, never forget that." Fawkes words struck Ryan. It was a reminder to uphold his principles and beliefs. There was a darkness consuming him, and he knew he would have to fight it retain his humanity.

"Be careful out there boss. You'll always have a home in Underworld." Charon's words conveyed sorrow. A single tear rolled down the ghoul's rotten face.

"I know Charon. Thank you. Both of you."

Those were his final words. He promptly left Megaton and soon the Capital Wasteland was behind him. On a hilltop far from Megaton he took one long look at the world he was leaving behind him. The sun was setting and the majestic Washington Monument looked stunning at sundown. He remembered how many times he and Sarah and gone up there and watched the sunset. He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his head. He had already seen too many people he cared about die in the wasteland. No more. He had cutoff his ties and reassumed his old identity. He was the Lone Wanderer. Cursed to wander the wastes for eternity.


End file.
